


Make A Name

by Pyrasaur



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Identity Issues, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrasaur/pseuds/Pyrasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that he was in out of the sun, he still had no idea who he was. But he had a chipper little friend who seemed to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make A Name

     He must have been wandering for a long time, out there in the sand and heat -- he just couldn't remember much of it. His chest felt branded where the bouncers' hands had shoved him. He was lucky to be here now, out of the elements in a room of his own.

     So he sat down on his new bed, and rubbed his face up and down in his hands. The lights buzzed tunelessly. Wind whistled above his room, through what sounded like miles of attic space; somewhere through the walls there were voices blurring away to nothing. He was a guy -- a plain guy, the bathroom mirror had shown him -- in the middle of a big world.

     He looked at his strange sore awkward leg for a bit. The lights kept buzzing. He supposed it was too soon to call this place home. Then he opened up the toolbelt he was wearing, to have a better look inside. 

     There was a red ball, smooth and cool, textured like reptile skin. He put that aside in the blankets. There were staples, and bombs, and strange tools. Each contour felt like it belonged in his hand, like extensions of him, like his bones and muscles had grown into place around these shapes. He didn't know why. He didn't know anything. Light flashed along the length of one big staple, as he held it up and wondered what he was supposed to use this thing for, and what could possibly blunt its metal points like that.

     Then the red ball moved.

     "Man," it said. It uncoiled itself into a snake, and yawned a gaping yawn. "I must have slept for days, but I feel as good as new! Better than new, actually!"  
     He blinked. "Who are you?"  
     "You don't remember me? Oh, that stings! You really must have lost your memory if you don't know your buddy, Rope Snake!"  
     That name didn't sound familiar at all -- but then, he had already discovered four friends he never knew he had. This made five. It seemed like he was a lucky guy, coming across so many people.  
     "Rope Snake ...?"  
     "Yep! Not just a rope, and not just a snake!"  
     Well, that sounded like a good friend to have. He was extending a hand before he even realized why he was moving. Rope Snake brightened, and slithered closer to coil around his offered wrist.  
     "So, you know me from somewhere ..." He lifted his arm, wondering at the snake scales and sure-gripping muscles sliding over his shirt sleeve. "Can you tell me who I am?"  
     "No can do. It's a plot point later on. Really important stuff."  
     "Oh. Okay ..."  
     "But there's no need for the long face!" Rope Snake beamed at him. "We're destined for great things, you and me! I'm going to be a great leviathan of a snake, and you're going to be the coolest guy I've ever hung out with."

     He thought for a moment about great things, important things. Vague chunks of ideas tumbled in his head. He stood -- Rope Snake tightened on his arm -- and he walked unevenly toward his new furniture, the worn dresser and threadbare couch and the old stringed instrument propped up in the corner.  
     "What kind of great things?"  
     "I can't tell you that, either! Geez, do you want me to ruin the whole game?!"  
     He hummed. "No, I guess not."  
     "Hey," Rope Snake said, peering up at him, "It'll take some time. But believe me, buddy, it'll be worth it. Nothing'll be able to compare to that moment. In the meantime, I'd better have some kind of name for you, so what's it gonna be?"

     He didn't know, no more than he knew out there in the blazing sun. The room buzzed around him. Here was the sound of the whole world again, this time with the barely audible murmuring of Rope Snake coiling up over his elbow. There were people somewhere who knew what he should be called, and where he came from, and why any of this was happening -- and maybe finding those people would count as a great thing to accomplish.

     "Well," he said, "I don't know what my name is. And I can't really guess what would be a good name would be, if I don't know anything about me ... All I know is that I've been pretty lucky, so far."  
     "I'll just call you 'that lucky guy' until we figure out something better," Rope Snake said. He jerked his head at nothing in particular. "That lucky guy over there? Yep, he's a good pal of mine. That's what I'll tell anybody who asks."  
     He found himself staring at the instrument. White light caught on its strings, standing out vivid against the wood. He reached toward it, and put his fingers on the strings just to feel the wire-sleekness and pull one and listen to the note quavering away to nothing. That string, he knew, was out of tune. Maybe he used to play.  
     Rope Snake leaned out in front of him, bright red and staring. "Helloooo?"  
     "Hmm? Sorry."  
     "You're the lucky guy, right?"  
     He lowered his hand from the instrument, and looked around -- maybe just to make sure he hadn't forgotten any of these new things. Yeah, this was his room and this was his life. "Sure. Lucky is fine."  
     "Great! What do you say we go get something to eat? Because I could eat an ox. Maybe two of 'em!"  
     "Okay." 

     He paused, and lifted his arm to eye level; Rope Snake beamed expectantly back.

     "... Thanks, Rope Snake."  
     "No problem! I'll be here whenever you need help, chum, me and my jaw! Count on it!"  
     He wished there were some way he could tuck all these thoughts into his pockets, to keep them safe. He didn't seem to have lost any possessions, after all. Standing there, he watched Rope Snake slither up his arm and down his side, to vanish back into the belt full of tools. Lights buzzed. Wind whistled. And with a deep breath, he turned and limped out of his room. Since those band guys were his friends, he thought he should go introduce himself.


End file.
